


Cartoon Law 8

by Silvarbelle



Category: Xiaolin Showdown (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 16:06:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvarbelle/pseuds/Silvarbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What If cartoons really were like "Who Framed Roger Rabbit?"  This story gives a glimpse into the life of a cartoon typecast as The Pathetic Villain Wannabe and the crap he goes through just trying to film a show.  Oh, and hooking up with his Hot Male Villain co-star, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cartoon Law 8

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this three hundred years ago, or so it seems. 'Round about the beginning of 2005, after I'd finally seen and gotten hooked on Xiaolin Showdown. The concept of this story amused the hell out of me when I thought of it. Still does, occasionally.

Jack Spicer sat in his trailer, reading through the script for the day’s show. He sighed as he realized that yet again, he was to play the buffoon; that he was expected to whine and bitch and moan, and generally act like a fool. And on top of that, he was going to be hurt dreadfully. In this episode, part of Chase’s mountain was expected to fall on him, and he was going to mutter some inane thing and then flatten himself and wriggle out from underneath a massively massive pile of boulders.

He tossed the script onto the vanity table and leaned back in his chair. He stared at his reflection with stone cold red eyes, assessing his features. Just his luck, the Creator had brought him into being as a strange looking guy: white skin, vibrant red-orange hair, red eyes, and that damnable eyeliner as further decoration. His wardrobe, too, left a lot to be desired.

 _Ah, well,_ Jack thought quietly. _At least I’m not all-over yellow like Omi. Variety being the spice of life, I, at least, have more colors to choose from than he does._

Jack glanced out the window of his trailer in time to see Omi go strolling by; a cup of hot black coffee in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. Destined to go through his existence as a midget, Omi had to do his part to keep his physical form to specifications. Jack was glad he didn’t have to go to such lengths, and he was doubly glad he wasn’t a Xiaolin monk. If he had to be stuck with listening to the little round guy for hours on end every day – especially when Omi started up his daily rant about how he had to poison his body to stay tiny – he’d have snapped by now.

As it was, he figured that time wasn’t too far off. His title was “Evil Boy Genius,” yet more often than not, he was a mediocre lame-assed twit. And, sure, while he supposedly had a mastery of robotics, that was mere implication. The robots were all built by techs off-screen. He only got to connect a few wires that he couldn’t possibly screw up after the majority of the construction had taken place. His role left him in the position of literally not having a friend in the world while on-screen. After work, he enjoyed hanging out with other characters from different shows, but in the confines of _Xiaolin Showdown_ , he was a friendless, miserable loner, and it was _really_ beginning to annoy him.

Still, there _were_ perks. He got to annoy Omi on a regular basis without having to live with the guy, and there _was_ the Eye Candy roaming around. Jack considered it to be a good day whenever he stumbled across Raimundo working out with his shirt off, and then, of course, there was Chase Young.

A knock sounded on his trailer door and Jack looked over to see it open, and one of the set crew stuck her head in and said, “Mr. Spicer…? Two minutes to show time,” and was gone again, the door closing behind her.

Jack sighed once more and got up to stretch, then began pulling on the long black coat that was part of his costume. While he dressed, he once again contemplated Chase Young. Part of him was insanely jealous that the new guy got to be so awesomely bad-ass _and_ so totally gorgeous, but the majority of him _liked_ having Chase around. Admiring the other man helped pass the time and kept him from being truly bored.

Dressed in his jacket and the heli-bot, Jack flipped up the collar and checked his reflection again. He knew that soon enough, he’d be covered in contusions, and his elastic cartoony body would be maimed, mangled, and squished. Fortunately, the pain never lasted very long, but until he morphed back to normal, he would have to put up with looking gross.

“I really don’t want to do this,” Jack muttered, adjusting the goggles at his hairline. He left his trailer and began making his way towards the studio on the Kids’ WB lot that hosted _Xiaolin Showdown_.

He was halfway there when someone fell into step beside him and he glanced over to see Clay Bailey with a bottle of water and a donut in hand.

“Mornin’, Jack,” the Dragon of the Earth muttered around a mouthful of food.

“Morning, Clay,” Jack replied affably. He liked the big, buff Texan. Clay was a sociable guy who didn’t give him a hard time unless it was written into the script. Off-screen, he was pleasant to Jack, and even made it a point to hang out and talk with him after some of the more difficult episodes.

“Seen the script?” Clay asked.

“Yep.”

“You gonna be okay?”

“Eventually. The bumps and bruises don’t last long; you know that.”

“Yeah, but it ain’t right that you get the majority of ‘em.”

Jack grinned. “You know it and I know it, big guy.”

“At least you get to converse with Chase in this one,” said Clay with grin.

Jack laughed. Because Clay persisted in maintaining an off-screen friendship with him – part of his ingrained “down home” charm – Clay had discovered Jack’s liking for Chase, and routinely teased him good-naturedly about his crush.

“Yes, I do,” Jack agreed.

“Unfortunately,” said Chase as he walked up to the studio door, “I also get to call him derogatory names and then punch his lights out.”

Holding open the door, he smiled at Jack and said, “Good morning, Spicer.”

Jack blinked, then affected a casual grin and a nod as he replied, “Good morning, Young,” and stepped through the door.

Clay stayed where he was, stuffing the last of his donut into his mouth. When Chase nodded to him, he nodded back, and watched as Chase’s attention focused with swift intensity back on Jack while the other man followed Spicer inside.

He grinned and took a swig of water. Sooner or later, everything would fall into place, and perhaps the show would be revitalized before it was canceled from the air and the lot of them were down-sized.

 

*~*~*~*

 

“Cut! Let’s try that one again, people!”

Jack groaned as the boulders rolled off of him and back into place as part of Chase’s Mountain o’ Doom. He _hated_ this director; the man had had it out for him from the very first time he’d been brought on board, and so every time Jack was due to be injured, there seemed to be an overly excessive number of re-takes.

The Xiaolin monks and Chase gave him sympathetic glances as they moved to take their places prior to the mountain crumbling apart.

And abruptly, Jack was fed up.

“Hold it!” he yelled, and everyone paused, startled. He turned and marched over to the edge of the stage and looked down at the surprised director. “What was wrong with that last take, exactly? I mouthed off, Chase punched me off the ledge, Clay did his bit and Wudai Cratered the boulders onto me, I screamed and squished. What went wrong?”

“Oh… nothing, really,” said the director with a catty smile. “I just didn’t like the way the boulders tumbled and landed. I’m looking for something a bit more dramatic.”

“One would think you’d have found something you liked out of twelve takes,” Chase said coolly.

“Hey, your performance has been superb,” the director replied. “And the monks – good job! And, Jack, you’re doing okay, too. But the boulders… just not right.”

“They’re _boulders_ ,” Jack argued. “How many different ways can big, heavy rocks fall?”

“The possibilities are endless,” the director shot back with a bright, patently false smile. “We’ll keep doing this until they fall just right.”

Jack realized, then and there, that if this kept going, he was going to be hurting big time.

“No,” he said suddenly. “No, we won’t.”

And with that, he walked off the stage and headed for the exit.

“Hey… _hey!_ Get _back here_ , Spicer! We’ve got a show to make!” the director yelled from behind him.

Jack lifted his right hand, his middle finger aloft, and spun his hand in a lazy circle as he walked out the doors.

Outside, he got as far as two studios away from the XS building and then halted. He had no idea where to go. Everyone he knew was either working on the WB Lot or in a ‘toon movie off-site. That left him with very few options, but he didn’t want to be alone at the moment.

A touch to his arm startled him and he looked to his right, only to find Chase standing beside him, looking at him with concern.

“Come on,” the other man said, and he began walking away.

“What are you doing out here?” Jack asked, following automatically. “There are other scenes for you to shoot that don’t require me or the monks.”

“I’m on strike, too. So are the monks and Dojo,” said Chase. “We’re tired of having to watch you get hurt just because X has a hair up his ass about you. I told him where he could cram it and the monks are currently heading for the Head Offices to lodge a complaint against him.”

Jack blinked. “Really?”

“Really. Never mind that nothing productive gets done and we’re all out of sorts by the end of filming, but it just isn’t right that you’re suffering like this.”

Spicer laughed bitterly. “You were Created as an Evil Doer, Chase. You’re going to blow that base-line if you keep up the concerned schtick.”

“Ah, but I was apparently Good once – remember?” Chase said with a grin. “That makes me very… flexible.”

Jack had a different definition for “flexible” where Young was concerned, but decided not to share his ideas. Instead, he asked, “Where are we going?”

“To my place. We’re all done for the day and the only other option is to go to a pub and get stinking drunk. I’m not in the mood for that, so I thought I’d treat you to lunch and a chance to relax.”

“Your place…? Chase, you don’t have to—“

“I know I don’t. Now come on.”

“Why not catch the Lot Shuttle?”

Chase grinned. “The monks took it to the Head Offices. It’s only another fifteen minutes’ walk to the Evil Doers’ Section anyway.”

Jack sighed and kept walking.

 

*~*~*~*

 

“Niiiiiiiiiiice,” Jack murmured, and let out an appreciative whistle.

Chase, because of the powers he’d been Created with, had been afforded one of the best penthouse apartments in the Kids’ WB Evil Doers On-Site Residential Section. Big picture windows made up the two walls in the living room that looked South and West, giving him a grand view of ToonCity and the mountain ranges. All the furnishings and materials used in the apartment were expensive, and Jack would’ve killed just for the spacious kitchen with the attached mini-bar. Chase’s home was a far cry from his own apartment which, while not a one-room shanty-shack, wasn’t anywhere near as grand as this one.

Yet another reason to hate the way he’d been Created, Jack grumbled silently. If he weren’t one of the Pathetic Villains, he could have a nice place, too.

“Make yourself at home,” Chase invited. “I’m going to get out of my working clothes. Help yourself to anything at the bar or in the kitchen.”

Jack watched the man walk up the short, spiraling staircase that led up to the bedrooms on the second level of the penthouse suite. Then, deciding to take Chase at his word, he toed off his clunky boots, pulled off the heli-bot, jacket, and goggles, and then moseyed into the kitchen. He rummaged around in the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Perrier water, then went to the living room and stood looking out at the sun-lit city below.

A light cough behind him had him turning and he blinked at the sight of Chase in a simple black T-shirt and a pair of perfect-fit blue jeans. He’d tied his hair back and his feet were bare.

Chase grinned at him. “What sounds good for lunch?”

 _You,_ Jack wanted to say, but instead he said, “I haven’t had pizza in what seems like forever. That sound all right to you?”

Chase nodded. “That sounds great. I’m tired of Lao Mang Lone, and that spread that shows up on the table during every dining scene.”

Jack nodded and reached into his back jeans pocket and pulled out his wallet. Opening it, he began counting the bills inside when he heard, “What are you doing?”

Glancing up, he found Chase frowning at him and said, “I’m checking to make sure I have enough for the pizza.”

The other man laughed and shook his head. “No, Jack – I invited you to lunch, therefore, I provide the food. I’ve got all the makings for pizza; it won’t take but a moment to get one prepared and in the oven.”

Jack put his wallet away and said, “Well, hey, I appreciate it. But if you don’t mind, I’ll help you. Least I can do if you’re going to feed me.”

“Sure,” Chase agreed, and the two of them went into the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, two large pizzas had been prepared – one all meat, the other all veggie – and tossed into the oven and the timer set. Then the two villains went back out to the living room and collapsed onto the comfy, over-stuffed couch that faced the windows.

“What a day,” Jack sighed. “And it isn’t even noon yet.”

“Hence why you’re here,” Chase commented. “To relax.”

“Hey, believe me – I’m _already_ relaxed. Anything else that follows is just icing on the cake.”

Chase smirked and stretched, then propped his feet up on the coffee table.

“The bruises and bumps are starting to disappear,” he said lightly.

“Yeah, the pain faded before we were halfway here,” Jack murmured, slumping back into the plump cushions and letting his head rest comfortably. “Now all that follows is morphing back to normal.”

“What is it like?” the other man asked curiously. When Jack glanced at him questioningly, he added, “Getting Damaged like that… what is it like?”

“But you’ve – no, wait. You were in lizard form both times, and that makes you just that much tougher,” Jack muttered. “The only time you’ve been messed up in your humanoid form was when you and the monks rode the Black Beetle atop the geyser.”

Chase nodded. “And that was just a few scuff marks on the armor and messy hair. I’ve never had a violent rearrangement of my physical matter – unless transforming into a giant lizard counts.”

Jack snickered and shook his head. “No, it doesn’t. Well… how do I explain this? Yes, I feel the pain that comes of being Damaged, but being a ‘toon means it’s more acceptable than it would be if I were Real. Because even though my base-line existence is modeled after Real Humanity, my form is as elastic and malleable as any other cartoon. And since _Xiaolin Showdown_ is a slapstick cartoon that means I don’t have to suffer with feeling Reality Pain. Mine is fleeting and then it’s gone, and the only thing that’s left is to let my body pop back into place. I imagine that if you ever get Damaged, you’ll experience the same thing. The monks and Dojo certainly do.”

“I haven’t yet, which is why I don’t understand how you can put up with it on a regular basis. It’s also why I am intensely irritated at X for doing what he does to you. Hopefully, with any luck, that’ll stop once the monks get done with the Head Offices.”

“Maybe, but it’ll have to wait and see. Sweetness and Light can only carry a person so far, and the Head Offices are, by law and nature, immune to all but the maximum effects. Revenue is indifferent to Good or Evil. Although, the sub-section of universal cartoon law states: ‘Sometimes Good wins. Sometimes Evil wins. But when Good and Evil work together, Everybody wins.’ Maybe you and I should’ve gone with them as back-up. Cartoon Law would’ve been on our side.”

Chase smiled and slowly shook his head. “And I don’t understand why you haven’t put in a serious complaint about this. Listen to you! You’re speaking like the genius you’re supposed to be on the show! But the Viewers will never see you like this unless your role is written better.”

Jack laughed and looked fondly at the other man. “Chase, didn’t you know…? The whole reason my role was downgraded is because you were Created for the show. Once you came on the scene, your very nature made you the number one villain, and I became superfluous as a True Evil Villain. But because the Viewers like me, I was kept around as the Comedic Screw-up.”

Young sighed. “I’m sorry, Jack.”

“Don’t be. You were Created for a purpose, and you’re fulfilling that purpose. It’s not your fault.”

The timer buzzed, then, and Chase got up from the couch. Jack started to stand as well, but the other man waved him back down and said, “Sit. I’ll bring lunch. Just put your feet up and relax.”

Jack sat back and stacked his arms behind his head with a grin. “See me arguing.”

With a snort, Chase hurried into the kitchen to shut off the timer and rescue the pizzas.

In short order, he was back with two hot plates, on which rested the hot pizza pans that held the piping hot pizzas. He set them on the coffee table and went away again, then came back with two empty plates, handing one to Jack.

“Do you need silverware?” Chase asked with an arched brow.

“You’re joking, right?” Jack shot back, and the other man laughed.

“Fine, then – dig in.”

Jack took a slice from both pizzas and settled back to begin eating. He groaned happily at the first cheesy, saucy bite, and chewed contentedly before swallowing. Glancing over at Chase, who was watching him expectantly, he said, “Damn, we’re fine cooks.”

Chase laughed and reached for the all-meat pizza, taking two slices for himself.

They ate in silence for a while, until there were only a couple of slices left from each pizza. Then Chase cleaned up the debris while Jack lay nearly comatose on the couch, patting his full belly and groaning contentedly.

“Whoa,” Jack muttered with a stupid grin. “What a charge.”

“Care for anything else?” Chase asked, coming back with another bottle of water for Jack.

Spicer took the bottle and smirked as he said, “Yeah. A cookie. I figure one more thing to eat will make me explode, which will save me the effort of having to digest this load.”

Chase laughed as he settled back onto the couch. “And because of Cartoon Law 8, you’ll be able to morph back to normal even if you do explode, right?”

“Right.”

“Would it be better for you? Or can you stand to digest?”

Jack waved one hand dismissively. “I’d rather digest. I’ve had about enough Damaging as I can stand today.”

Chase nodded sympathetically. Then he frowned and asked, “So what does it mean when you morph back to normal instantly after being Damaged? You have to do it for every re-take, and sometimes for script reasons. What’s the difference between that and letting it happen naturally?”

“The difference is that forced morphing hurts,” explained Jack. “And because that’s part of cartoon existence, it’s something we have to put up with until it’s gone, unlike when we’re mimicking Reality Pain.”

“You mean every time you – or the monks or Dojo or any other ‘toon – have to instantaneously force yourself back to base-line normal, it causes _pain?_ ” Chase asked incredulously.

Surprised, Jack nodded. “Of course it does. Didn’t you know that?”

The other man shook his head. “No. I’ve never had to do that, and I haven’t gotten around to reading up on all the Cartoon Laws.”

“Ah. Well, now you know.”

“But… does X know?”

“Oh, sure. He has to know what the characters are going to be put through so he’ll be able to better judge how to accurately portray us.”

Fury crashed across Chase’s face. “He _knows_ what you’ve been going through and he did it to you _deliberately?_ ”

Spicer sighed. “Chase, calm down, or you really _will_ get bent out of shape.”

“But, Jack—“

“Chase, according to you, the problem is being taken care of, right? And the monks, who know precisely what it’s like to have to morph quickly, can make a sound argument. So there’s nothing to do but wait and see.”

“How can you be so calm about this?!”

“As of November first this year, I’m two years old, Chase. The older you get, the more you’ll understand.”

Chase snorted. “ _I’m_ over a thousand!”

“I’m going by Creation Age. Y’know, as in how long it’s been since you were Created? That means _I’m_ older than _you_ ,” Jack said with a grin.

Chase was silent for a moment. Then, to Jack’s utter surprise, he said, “That works in my favor, then, because I’ve always wanted to make it with a sexy older guy, and you’re the only one I know.”

They were both silent for several minutes, just looking at each other.

Then Jack blurted, “Say _what?_ ”

“I’ve seen how you look at me,” Chase said quietly, seriously. “And if you’d noticed, you’d have seen me looking back at you the same way. I think you’re hot, Jack, and I really like you. You and I were both Created appropriately old enough to be able to feel things like desire and lust. I want to feel them with you.”

“But…” Jack’s mind scrambled, trying to come up with a rational reason as to why they shouldn’t. The only thing he could think of was— “We’re enemies on-screen. Won’t that make things difficult when we have to be hateful to each other most of the day, then go back to being… being… whatever… when we’re done filming?”

“We’re _not_ enemies – just adversaries. I can’t speak for you, but at the end of the day, I’m glad the filming is done because then I can get _out_ of character and be the real me. Real Me _likes_ you, Jack. I like you a _lot_. I thought… I mean, I know your on-screen persona has a fanboy crush on me, but what about off-screen?” Chase asked hopefully.

Jack bit his lip gently for a few seconds. Then he grudgingly admitted, “Off-screen, I’m fanboy crushing on you, too. Well, maybe not _fanboy_ crushing, because that’s transitory. Maybe more like….”

“More like you’re truly interested in me?” Chase murmured, sitting up and scooching closer to Jack.

“Maybe,” Jack said softly, leaning back into the cushions and watching Chase approach.

“So, would it be so bad for us to hook up? Perhaps it’s because of the way I was Created, but I compartmentalize exceptionally well. I can keep my off-screen and on-screen personas separate _very_ easily.”

“I’m not quite so blessed,” Jack said dryly. “I actually have to _work_ at compartmentalizing.”

“But—“

Chase was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Cursing, he got up from the couch and went to grab the cordless. “Hello?” he said into the receiver.

Jack watched the other man pace back and forth by the telephone base for several minutes as he spoke with whoever was on the other end of the line. He admired the easy grace of that lithe form and wondered if he really could handle having all that power and masculine sensuality to himself during off-screen hours.

Chase finished his conversation and hung up the phone. He turned around and paused when he saw Jack watching him with greedy, warm red eyes. Smiling, he sauntered back over to the couch and remained standing up so Jack could continue looking at him.

“That was Clay,” he said calmly. “The complaint was effective and X has been called in for an interview by KWB’s Internal Affairs. Clay says that your testimony and mine are necessary, too, but they’ll get to us tomorrow.”

Jack was silent for a moment as he thought about it. Finally, he made up his mind and offered a slow, sexy smile as he said, “Then that gives us plenty of time to have some fun.”

Chase’s answering grin was brilliant and wicked.

Jack got up off the couch, stood up on tiptoe, and pressed a quick, singeing kiss to Chase’s mouth. Pulling back, he said, “Give me twenty minutes,” and headed for the stairs, knowing the bathroom was on the second level.

Chase closed his eyes, said a quick prayer of gratitude for Jack’s generous mood, and hurried upstairs himself.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Twenty minutes later, Jack stepped into Chase’s bedroom and groaned softly at the sight of the naked man sprawled sensually on the large, comfortable-looking bed.

“What took you so long?” Chase teased. He had his left arm stacked behind his head. His right hand was casually stroking his already hard cock, his fist moving in an unhurried rhythm.

“Law 8,” was all Jack said as he quickly pulled his shirt, jeans, and underwear off.

Chase frowned. “Jack, I didn’t mean for you to—“

Spicer joined his soon-to-be lover on the bed and stopped his words with a kiss. When he let go after several minutes, Jack smiled impishly and curled his own hand around the other man’s cock as he said, “Considering where _this_ is shortly going to be, did you really want to take things Reality slow and wait for me to digest all that food?”

“I see your point,” Chase growled through gritted teeth. He tactfully didn’t mention he’d sped up the process himself even as he grabbed hold of Jack and yanked the smaller man down atop him and kissed Jack deeply.

The two of them spent several minutes fondling, groping, and kissing each other as they rolled about on the bed; shifting positions every so often for maximum enjoyment.

And enjoy they did. With every caress, every kiss, they delighted in the feel of each other. Chase took great pleasure in making Jack gasp and shudder when he sucked on the smaller man’s nipples. Jack was smugly thrilled at causing Chase to cry out sharply when he retaliated by fisting the evil everlord’s cock while at the same time licking and nuzzling one of Chase’s extremely sensitive pointy ears.

Very soon, they had fondled each other into a high state of arousal, and Chase groaned as he looked down at Jack, who crouched over him while his mouth was busy between Chase’s legs.

“Jack, I don’t think I can take much more of this,” he muttered desperately. “I’ve wanted you for so _long_ …”

Spicer grinned when he let go and sat up. Leaning down, he nipped delicately at the sensitive head of Chase’s cock, enjoying the shocked hiss the other man gave, and then crawled forward to straddle Young’s hips.

“Aren’t you glad,” he said happily, “that we don’t have to do things the Reality way? No messy lube, no condoms, no disease to worry about, no kids. Just you and me and near-instant gratification.”

“Well, I’m kind of hoping I’ll last longer than _that_ ,” Chase joked with a grin, though his fierce gold eyes were hot with lust when he realized that Jack was going to ride him.

Jack, almost deliriously happy, threw back his head and laughed out loud. He felt Chase’s hands take hold of his hips, but the other man simply held him; his fingers stroking the smooth, pale skin on Jack’s hips simply because it pleased him to do so.

When he calmed down, Jack leaned forward and kissed Chase slow and deep and sweetly, and Chase responded eagerly.

Leaning up again, Jack looked tenderly down at his lover and said, “I’m really glad you want me, Chase.”

“You have no idea,” Young replied softly.

Then he moaned as Jack slowly sat down, taking Chase’s cock inside his arse.

Jack moaned, too, but it was a sound of pure pleasure. Being an age-appropriate cartoon, he didn’t have to worry about “being prepared” or any such Reality nonsense. He didn’t have to wait for his body to adjust, because it happened instantaneously. He was very, very happy about that, because it meant he could greedily enjoy the sensation of Chase filling him with his thick cock without any awkward hesitation.

When he’d seated himself firmly atop Chase, the evil everlord’s cock deeply inside him, he paused; allowing both of them to relish the sensation of connection.

Then Chase gripped Jack’s hips firmly and thrust upward, snarling, “I can’t _wait_ ,” and they were off.

Jack braced his hands on Chase’s shoulders as he rolled his hips forward and back, over and over again, moving to meet Chase’s urgent thrusts.

“So good, so good, so good, so good,” Chase was muttering, his eyes half-closed with fierce pleasure as he looked up at the young man atop him.

“Yes,” Jack agreed breathlessly. “Yes, yes, yes, yes….”

He kept his left hand on Chase’s shoulder, but he moved his right hand away and down to his own erection and began stroking himself, hard and fast.

“Let me—“ Chase said urgently, but Jack shook his head frantically.

“No, don’t stop, don’t stop, almost there…!” Spicer gasped.

Chase let loose a wordless growl and thrust harder and faster into his lover.

“Know what – I like – best?” Jack muttered in sync to their frantic rhythm, his eyes narrowed to slits as his orgasm fast approached.

Young shook his head soundlessly.

“That we’re – going to – do this – again.”

Chase snarled and wrapped his arms around Jack, holding the young man close against him as he rolled suddenly, turning Spicer onto his back on the mattress while he rolled atop the pale youth.

Jack squealed at the abrupt movement and found himself staring wide-eyed up at Chase. Then his eyes closed and his head tilted back; he moaned, long and low, and fisted himself in time to Chase’s fierce thrusts even as his lover leaned down and licked frantically at one of his nipples.

A moment later, Jack shouted his ecstasy as he came hard, shuddering under the whiplash of pleasure. Chase followed almost immediately after; slamming deep into Jack and coming with a sharp, wordless cry.

Chase collapsed, his strength gone with the power of his orgasm, and Jack _oofed_ softly at the weight of the other man pressing down on him. Squirming to a more comfortable position so he could breathe easier, Jack then wrapped his arms around his lover and stroked the long, silky black hair with its green highlights. He really, really, _really_ loved the texture of Chase’s hair, and he intended to touch it as often as he could when not on-screen.

Several long moments later, Chase groaned and rolled heavily off of Jack to flop onto his back with a deep sigh of contentment.

“That was the most perfect thing I’ve ever felt,” Chase muttered to the ceiling, his eyes closed and a grin shaping his sensual mouth.

“You should’ve felt it from my end,” Jack replied smartly.

“You’re saying I didn’t?” said Chase teasingly.

The two of them began laughing uproariously; both of them ridiculously pleased with themselves.

When they’d calmed down, Chase gathered Jack close against him and pulled the covers up over them. “So, how was it?” he asked.

Jack gave Chase a mischievous glance. “Don’t you mean, how was _I?_ Remember, I’m a guy, too; I know what you’re _really_ saying.”

“Cheater,” Young retorted, then sighed dramatically. “All right, then: how was I?”

“More wonderful than I’d ever hoped for, to the point that I can’t wait to get my strength back so I can molest you in a proper show of appreciation,” Jack said seriously.

Chase grinned wickedly. “I look forward to it.”

 

*~*~*~*

 

Jack glanced to his left when someone fell into step beside him on the walk from the trailer to the _Xiaolin Showdown_ studio.

“Mornin’, Jack,” said Clay with an easy grin. Then he nodded and added, “Mornin’, Chase.”

“Good morning,” Chase replied calmly, keeping his arm draped around Jack’s shoulders.

“Mornin’, Clay,” Jack said brightly, tightening his own arm about Chase’s waist.

“So, the new director arrives today. Think we’ll get this season finished in time to spare?” Clay asked, honestly curious to know what they thought.

“If she’s any good judge of character,” Jack said with a mild shrug.

“Considering it took nearly two weeks to bring her on board, she’s going to have to really show her stuff,” Chase commented.

“I reckon that’s right enough,” said Clay, and the three of them entered the studio and made their way over to where the others had gathered for the morning filming.

The director looked up and smiled as they approached. Then her eyes fastened on Chase and Jack with hungry avarice and the waiting ‘toons could have sworn they heard her mutter: “I knew it!” under her breath.

“Okay, is everyone here?” the director asked. She grinned when they all nodded and said, “Good! Let’s get started. We’ve got a _lot_ of catching up to do. We’ll pick up where X left off. Mr. Spicer—“

“Jack,” the young man said affably.

She grinned. “Jack – thanks. I promise I won’t put you through the wringer any more than necessary, all right?

“Fine with me,” he said, thoroughly pleased with the new director.

Chase and Jack separated to take their places on the stage, followed by the monks.

And as they did so, both of them heard the woman mutter quietly, “They are _so_ doing it. Wonder if I can sneak in a few seconds of Chase giving Jack CPR…?”

Chase and Jack traded knowing looks; their amusement easily apparent to each other.

Then they put their “working personas” on and waited for their instructions.

After all, the show must go on.

 

The End


End file.
